


Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

by Ellen Smithee (ellensmithee)



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, TVD Hiatus Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellensmithee/pseuds/Ellen%20Smithee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time she was magic, and he was innocent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [TVD Hiatus Challenge](http://tvd-hiatus.livejournal.com/).

Niklaus says he hates magic. He will not use it, he says. He is a man, and magic is woman’s work. The truth is, he cannot do magic. He has watched his brothers gain magic one by one, until only he remains “barren,” unable to light a simple candle. He tells himself that it does not matter, that it is better to be without magic. Without magic, Niklaus is like _him_ , like Father. But he says nothing, of course. He knows from experience that Father would only see it as another way in which Niklaus is lacking. And thus he keeps it to himself, scoffing at Finn and Kol when they do use their magic, hiding how he covets their power more than anything, quickly changing the subject every time before it turns to his own deficiency. Elijah suspects — Niklaus can tell by the knowing look in his older brother’s eyes, the pity Niklaus imagines he sees there — but his brother does not betray his secret.

One day, he is heading out to go hunting with his father and brothers in the forest when Rebekah beckons to him from her bedroom door. He glances out the window where he can already see his father pacing, his irritation obvious in the set of his shoulders as he glares up at the window. Niklaus knows he should go to the others; he will never earn his father’s respect if he does not at least try. But then he glances over at Rebekah’s hopeful face, and he knows he can deny her nothing. Turning back to the window, Niklaus taps on the glass and shakes his head. His father rolls his eyes before whirling around and stalking off, joining his other sons at the edge of the forest. Niklaus slips into his sister’s room, giving her a scolding glance.

“What is it?” he asks. “You know Father will be very angry with me.”

“Niklaus, this is important,” she says, her tone brisk, like Mother’s when she will brook no nonsense. “Shut the door. I must show you something.”

Niklaus closes the door behind him and turns to face Rebekah, who is busying herself with something at the table in front of the window. As he steps closer, he notices that she is arranging glass mosaic stones, like the ones the villagers use when making pottery, in a pattern on the desk. Finally she looks up, gracing him with a smile that seems to make his heart stop.

“Watch,” she says. He folds his arms over his chest, looking on as she raises her hands and holds them up, closing her eyes as she concentrates. His stomach starts to churn as he realizes what she is about to do, and he has to clench his fist to keep from lashing out and making her _stop_. Not _her_ , too, not _his_ Rebekah.

Then it happens. The stones rise from the table, up, up, up, into the beam of sunlight coming through the window. He gasps as it hits the glass, bathing the room in a dappled gleam. Rebekah stands in the middle of it, magic radiating off her like a halo as she manipulates the stones. She is so beautiful that he wants nothing more than to look upon her forever and he is caught.

All of a sudden, the spell breaks and the stones rain down on the table. Rebekah squeals and claps her hands before reaching out to grab his.

“Let us do it together, Niklaus!” Rebekah’s face is shining as she gazes at him, and his chest aches with love and fear.

“I… I _cannot_ ,” he whispers.

Rebekah frowns. “You cannot? What do you mean?”

“I…” Niklaus takes a deep breath, his eyes dropping to her hands. What if he tells her of his shame and she tells the others? He would have to leave. And he cannot imagine leaving Rebekah, not ever. But this is Rebekah, he thinks. She has always stood by him. She would not betray him by telling the others of his affliction.

“I cannot do magic,” he says finally. “I am… not like the rest of you. There is something wrong with me.”

Rebekah’s eyes widen and she cups his cheek with her palm.

“No,” she says, her voice firm. Then she adds softly. “There is nothing wrong with you, Niklaus.”

“Truly. It does not matter if you cannot do magic.”

“Do not tell the others,” he pleads. “I cannot bear for them to know. Especially not Father.”

“I will never tell, I promise. It will be our little secret.”

On impulse, Niklaus turns his head and presses his lips to her the inside of her wrist. He imagines he can smell the tangy odor of her blood through skin, tantalizing him, seducing him, and he can almost taste it. He is overcome by an urge to _take_. He wants to bite and shake and tear her to pieces. He wants to turn her inside out and cover himself in her blood and entrails and _smell_. He wants to devour her whole.

He starts to tremble, his whole body shaking with the violence of the images flooding his senses. From a distance, he can hear Rebekah calling him over and over, cajoling him to stop. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly, fighting to stay in control. Her small arms wrap around him, pulling him close, and he buries his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, lavender and honey and something else, something earthy, something womanly.

“It is all right, Niklaus,” she says, rubbing his back, soothing away his strange urges with every caress. “Do not be sad, dear brother. You do not need magic. Father does not have it either, and yet everyone still respects and fears him. That does not mean you are not… special to me.”

Niklaus clings to Rebekah. After a moment, he pulls back to gaze into her eyes, filled with relief when he sees only love, no censure or pity there. He strokes the hair out of her face, curling it around her ear. She shivers and he pulls her closer to warm her.

“You are special to me, too, dear sister,” he murmurs. He leans forward to drop a chaste kiss on her forehead, but at that moment she turns her head, and his lips are on hers instead. Startled, he begins to pull away, but she digs her fingers into his shirt, holding him still as she presses her mouth against his. Once again, the monster within him rears its head, and he tightens his grip eliciting a soft squeal from her, but instead of pulling away, she plasters herself against him, deepening the kiss as she rubs herself against him like a wanton. To his horror, he starts to harden, he _knows_ he should stop, he must stop, but he is powerless against the onslaught on his senses.

He is so engrossed in his sister that he almost misses it, the squeak of the loose step on the stairway. Their mother's voice travels up the stairwell, far enough away, and yet too close for comfort.

“Rebekah? Will you come help me?”

Rebekah jumps away from him, leaving him stunned.

“Coming, Mother!”

She checks her reflection in the looking glass and then turns to go, but he steps between her and the door.

“Rebekah—”

“Shh,” she whispers, pressing her finger to his lips. “Now we both have a secret.”


End file.
